


Children of the Stars

by yeska_noka



Category: Kis-My-Ft2 (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-22
Updated: 2013-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-30 02:56:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10867599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeska_noka/pseuds/yeska_noka
Summary: I don't even know. AU. Mysticism. (>_<)





	Children of the Stars

**Author's Note:**

> So this was written a year and a half ago, and it's awful. But I think I'm not one of those people who can keep around unfinished fic. It's never going to get finished, but I think part of the reason I'm not writing anymore is because there are these things just sitting here blocking my way. So I'm just going to try an experiment and put this out there and see if I can clear things out. 
> 
> I did have timeripple look at this at one point, and there were three million comments all over it like "Just...no. ZETTAI DAME." But I fixed nothing. :| There are incomplete chunks and rewritten, repetitive bits. Uh. Yeah. >_>
> 
> So here, have a writing roadblock:

The courtyard is vast, filled with thousands upon thousands of people. Senga’s not sure what he’s doing there. He just knows that he has to find someone. He doesn’t even know how he knows that, but he does. 

It’s the same way he knew he had to come to the temple. It’s a long journey from his hometown; although he could see the temple complex soaring above the horizon, it’s a good few hours of travel to get to it. His mother had accompanied him this far, waving farewell at the bottom of the first set of stairs. She looked... sad, maybe. 

But now he’s here, in the main gathering place, and all he knows is that none of the people around him are the one he’s looking for. And so he walks, drifting through the crowd as it shifts and surges, until there, in the very corner of his mind, there’s a faint pull, like that of a magnet. He knows immediately that he needs to follow it, and it leads him on, growing stronger and stronger, until the crowds seem to part, suddenly, and Senga sees him. 

He knows it’s him, in the same way he knew he was searching for someone, the instant he sees him. The man is looking back at him, expectantly Senga thinks, and when the man reaches out a hand, Senga doesn’t hesitate to take it. 

He’s startled by the resounding _click_ in his head, two magnets finally meeting, and despite pulling away in shock, there’s a lasting feeling of connection, like they’ve become one entity. He stares.

The man smiles, a beautiful, happy smile, and Senga smiles back, hesitantly.

“You didn’t know that would happen?” the man asks him.

_No_. Senga shakes his head. 

“Didn’t they tell you anything at all?”

No one has told Senga anything. 

“Ah, one of those,” the man says, and sighs, but his smile doesn’t waver. “Look.”

He waves his arm to indicate the crowd. 

“The children of the stars,” he explains. “Once a month, on the new moon when the night is darkest, the stars shine bright and call to their children.” 

Senga doesn’t understand.

“There,” the man says, and Senga looks up as he points, staring at a section of the sky. 

Senga knows immediately what he’s talking about. The second star of the Big Dipper constellation is glowing, a strong, bright blue. He’s never noticed that before. 

“You see?” The man moves closer, and when his shoulder brushes Senga’s, the last star in the constellation flashes a brilliant green. “Oh,” the man says. “You’re blue!” 

Senga’s beginning to understand. 

“Is every fated pair in the same constellation?” Senga asks.

“Most,” the man replies. “But not all. Like in ours,” he says, still pointing. “There’s seven, so of course it doesn’t work. That one... the first one, next to yours,” he clarifies when Senga can’t see what he’s indicating. “It’s paired star is over there.” He waves toward the 5-star Cassiopeia. 

“Are they... all here?” Senga wonders.

“Yes,” the man answers. “They’re all here. You’re the last.”

“So what happens now?”

“Nothing until midnight,” the man says. “So we can relax. Have dinner. It won’t start before twelve.”

“What won’t start?”

But he won’t answer, and Senga lets it drop, content to take in his new surroundings as he’s shown around. 

The man’s name is Nikaido, Senga learns, and he lives near the temple, or at least much closer than Senga does. 

Did. Senga wants to stay here, close by. 

It’s strange, their connection. It feels right, peaceful and calm, when Nikaido touches him. A hand on his hand, their shoulders leaning against each other, but the moment they separate, Senga feels the pull. He’s aware of Nikaido’s presence wherever he goes, a tug on his soul that insists he follow. But Nikaido never goes far. Senga guesses he feels it, too.

★*:.。.☆☆.。.:*★*:.。.☆☆.。.:*★*:.。.☆☆.。.:*★*:.。.☆☆.。.:*★

Senga knows the instant the clock strikes midnight. Even before he feels the low vibrations of some unheard sound, a shock runs through him as his blood burns. He feels as if his veins have been filled with poison - a moment of near-agony that steals his breath.

Nikaido grabs his hand and the feeling is muted, an insistent thrumming beneath his skin. Senga clings to him and it dampens even further, but he can’t ignore it. 

“What _is_ this?” Senga gasps. 

“It’s... us,” Nikaido says, and he seems to be having trouble breathing. He cringes. “We’re not properly connected.”

“What do you mean?”

“We haven’t established a permanent connection,” Nikaido explains. “No one knows how or why, but when the stars call, their pull is too strong. Without a soul connection to share the experience, the human body is overwhelmed. 

 

 

 

and meeting Nikaido’s eye, he knows before he’s told.

“The call of fate,” Nikaido states. 

Senga doesn’t have to ask what it means. His body is telling him. Physical touch will quell the magnetic pull of the connection, but it isn’t enough to neutralize the fire in his veins. His soul is calling out and he feels incomplete, but... 

“A soul connection?” he asks in disbelief. “Is that possible?” 

“Yes,” Nikaido says. “There are dances, ritual objects to create permanent connections. But we don’t have the time to find them or learn. Not right now.” 

“So then...”

“ _You know the answer to that_ ,” he whispers, and Senga finds that he does. He’s not at all surprised when Nikaido leans in to press his lips to Senga’s. For a moment, there’s a wash of coolness throughout Senga’s body, like a trickle of clear water through the poison, before the burn returns. 

Nikaido leads him up a flight of stone steps. They open onto a seemingly endless corridor of doors, stretching out ahead of them farther than they can see. They walk and walk, until they reach a door with a key in the lock. 

“Here,” Nikaido says, and removes the key, pulling open the door. They step inside, and he locks the door behind them as Senga takes in the room. It’s sparse, but elegant, sconces mounted on the walls to provide light, a bath near an opening in the wall, sunken into the stones with a wooden edge. Wisps of steam curl up from the water, screening the view of the stars. In the center of the room is a large bed, drapes drawn back to reveal rich coverings. 

Even for the short time he’s dropped Senga’s hand to open the door, Senga feels the loss of his touch. But as he turns to him, Nikaido’s already reaching out. He kisses Senga again, gently at first, and again the coolness spreads, from his kiss, and from the hand against Senga’s cheek. It’s unlike anything he’s ever felt in situations like this, dousing the fire instead of igniting it, but it feels like desire just the same. 

Despite the chill of the night, losing his clothes doesn’t make Senga feel any better, not until Nikaido’s hands are on his skin. They work like magic, transforming the strange burning pain into a more recognizable pleasure, fingers skimming across his shoulders, his back, his arms, his chest, and Nikaido’s skin is cool to the touch when he returns the favor. 

 

 

The fire of passion can burn the poison from the blood; the strongest, most intimate physical connections act as a gateway for the soul. 

“ _Please_ ,” Nikaido gasps, and Senga can feel it, feel him searching, even as he loses himself in sensation. He reaches back unconsciously, feeling, knowing, and finds him just as the heat becomes unbearable. That same magnetic snap echoes through them as their souls join and Senga can’t hold back. The essence of Nikaido’s being flows through him, swirls in to mix with his own, and he sinks into the physical pleasure of it as his orgasm sweeps him away. 

 

 

When he becomes aware of himself again, the stinging in his blood has been washed away and Senga feels calm, cool but for where his body is pressed against Nikaido’s. It’s a normal, pleasant warmth, comforting, but he feels empty. 

“Nika...?”

He doesn’t even need to ask his question.

Nikaido sighs, a puff of warm air against Senga’s shoulder. “It wasn’t permanent,” he says. “We’ll have to find a way to do that later.”

He sits up and pulls Senga with him. 

“Can’t we sleep?” Senga wants to know.

“Let’s bathe first,” Nikaido says, and he walks to the bath. For the first time, Senga feels almost as he used to. He feels normal without Nikaido touching him now, and doesn’t need him to keep the burning at bay. There’s still that touch of connection in the back of his mind, but it’s more thought than feeling, an unobtrusive awareness. He follows Nikaido.

The water is still hot, and maybe later he’ll ask him how it stays that way, but for now Senga lets the heat sink into his skin. The wall is built around the bath, leaving a window-like space where the wooden edge meets the open night, cool air drifting in to swirl the steam into playful tendrils. Senga sits close to Nikaido, their arms pressed against each other, and they watch the stars. 

 

 

 

 

 

They wake early, before dawn, a bell tolling somewhere high above, calling them to gather. Nikaido leads him out to the courtyard, the cool of the night chilling Senga’s skin, and he knows the moment he sees them.

There’s five of them already, and they look over as Senga and Nikaido approach, greeting Nikaido in the familiar manner of old friends. He lets go of Senga’s hand, but Senga doesn’t feel out of place, and they welcome him into their circle. He learns names and faces, hometowns and fates, until the bell tolls again, and suddenly everyone is moving. 

“Here,” Miyata says, and grabs his hand. “Like this.” 

Kitayama takes his other hand, and Senga glances over to try to catch Nikaido’s eye, but he’s looking up to the sky. Senga follows his line of sight, and what he sees makes him gasp. 

Their constellation is a rainbow against the blackness of the night, the white of the other stars fading in comparison. A vibrant red and a deep purple surround Senga’s blue, and at the end of the line, Nikaido’s green is cool and strong. Yellow, pink, and orange connect and complete their formation and Senga stares, captivated by its beauty. 

“Finally,” he hears Fujigaya whisper, and realizes that this must be the first time they’re seeing it, as well.

“Only complete constellations can shine in full brilliance,” Kitayama murmurs in confirmation. 

As they watch, it’s almost as if lines are being drawn between their stars, a clear and definite shape in the sky. There’s a faint flicker of white as the line between red and blue appears, like the memory of a forgotten star, and then it’s gone again. Senga glances around in confusion and there’s a temple priest watching them. He gives Senga a small, knowing smile, and then he disappears among the stars. Senga doesn’t understand, but he doesn’t feel like he has to. 

He stands with his constellation, strong and whole, until the first light of dawn begins to spread across the sky. Their stars fade in the morning light, his hands released, but he can still feel them there, hidden, waiting to shine again. 

“Come, Senga,” a voice nearby calls. “There’s work to be done before we can leave.” 

He follows willingly, a lightness in his step, and looks forward to telling his mother of his future. 

His new life has begun.


End file.
